


I Hope

by Withstarryeyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dean is a mechanic, F/M, Fluff, Love Story, Reader-Insert, mechanic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-20 13:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8250736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Withstarryeyes/pseuds/Withstarryeyes
Summary: I hope my soulmate is having a good day, you sighed and tuned back into your mother’s animated description of the guy you had a date with tomorrow. 
It was seven in the evening and Dean was not having a good day. Fuming, he set down his wrench with a little too much force, knocking off some screws from his work bench





	1. The Mark

You looked down at your soulmate mark for the third time that evening. The clock was ticking in your ear, it’s incessant documentation of time making the night go even slower. 

“Really honey, you should meet him,” Your mother was droning on and on about some doctor she’d met at the hospital. 

“Yeah Mom,” After having been through one too many set ups at the hands of your mother you’d learned it was better not to argue. 

Instead of listening you trailed your fingers down the length of the mark. It was long, almost serpent like. It was a tail of some kind of animal. Fish? Shark? You weren’t entirely sure. Apathetic to the symbol, maybe, but the meaning was what made you live. It gave you hope. 

_I hope my soulmate is having a good day_ , you sighed and tuned back into your mother’s animated description of the guy you had a date with tomorrow. 

* * *

It was seven in the evening and Dean was not having a good day. Fuming, he set down his wrench with a little too much force, knocking off some screws from his work bench. This car was not going to be easy to fix and his boss was breathing down his neck about it’s deadline. 

_It’s an expensive car, Dean. It needs to be fixed now, Dean. I know nothing about cars and you’re the mechanic but you need to work faster, Dean._

What a load of crap the guy was spewing.  

He had grease in his hair and oil slicking his hands and Dean felt grimey. He crinkled his nose and shut his eyes. He was tired beyond belief and aching from being under a car all day. Screw his boss, the car would be done when it was and he’d already worked 4 hours overtime. 

Grabbing his coat and his keys Dean clocked out. 

He was happy to be home, in front of the tv with a beer when the phone rang. It was Sammy. 

“Hey man, what’s up, everything okay?” Dean said as he picked up the phone. Sam rarely called him on work nights, knowing that he worked late nights and cared too much about being a mechanic. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Great, actually. Amelia and I just got engaged,” Dean could feel Sam’s excitement through the phone. He’d met his soulmate a year ago, they both had little dog tail tattoos on the inside of their wrists. 

“Congrats man,” Dean replied, taking a swig of his beer and listening to the grand ol’ tale of Sam and his fiancee. 

His eyes caught the end of his mark poking out of his sleeve. Dean ran his fingers over the tail. 

_He hoped his soulmate was having a good day_. 


	2. The Meeting

_ 8 o’clock don’t be late. Wear something nice, don't be afraid to get sexy ;).  _ You reread the text the doctor had sent you earlier that day. A glance at your watch told you it was currently 8:15 and he was nowhere in sight. Fancy music, fancy restaurant, fancy dress. You were just missing your fancy date. Swirling the wine left in your cup, you smiled politely at the waiter that passed by your table. Ten more minutes and then you’d leave. 

You were sure you looked pitiful. All alone in a restaurant too expensive for a single person to eat at, your hair curled and bouncing by your shoulders, your eyes accentuated by a perfectly subtle-not-subtle smokey eye. 

You puckered your lips as your eyes roamed the room. There was a couple over by the window. They looked happy, you thought, seeing the smile in the dimples of the guy’s cheeks. His hair was long, way past his ears and he was gazing into his date’s eyes. You caught their tattoos, inches from brushing against each other. You sighed. 

When were you ever going to find your soulmate?

* * *

 

_ 8 o’clock, Dean. That doesn’t mean 8:30 or 9:45, Dean. 8 o’clock, okay? _

Dean cursed as he shuffled into his car. He fumbled the Impala’s keys, praying that baby would heat up soon because it was goddamn cold and he was goddamn late. He ignored his phone as it rang, his brother’s borderline fake smile popping up on his screen. 

“I’m coming Sammy, chill,” Dean mumbled to the phone as he reversed the car, trying to map his way to the restaurant. It was fancy, he knew that by the name, and it was the reason he was running late. His bonus was resting in his suit pocket, made from that expensive car he’d spent all day fixing. 

Ten minutes and a few blown red lights and Dean was standing in front of the restaurant. His heart was in his throat and he blinked steadily in the harsh glare of neon lighting from the sign. Dean never thought he’d have a problem when his brother met his soulmate, after all the guy was 6 ft 4 and it wasn’t hard for him to catch a girl’s eyes.He was bound to fall in hopeless, head-over heels, love.  But now that he was standing in front of the place that had his brother and  _ her _ , he didn’t know what to do. 

Puppy dog eyes and little whispers of empathy in Dean’s ear. He wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to be made fun of for still being single. Dean, the bachelor, still hasn’t found love, shocker. 

“Excuse me sir, are you coming inside? If not I must ask you to evacuate the premises. Loitering is not allowed at this establishment,” A butler called out the front door, sending a scathing look at Dean’s battered shoes and askew tie. 

He wanted to scoff at the man but he really did need to get inside and he didn’t think Sam would take ‘antagonizing a waiter’ as a valid excuse for missing. 

Instead he forced a smile and bobbed his head, “ Sorry man, just clearing my head,” He forced out. 

It was time for him to face the music. 

The waiters were steadily getting less polite and less patient with you. It was eight-thirty and you were taking up a table they desperately needed. You could feel the waiter’s gaze on your back as you slipped out your phone.

You called him again.Got his voicemail again. 

“Damn it, Mom,” You groaned against the phone, finally giving up. 

You flagged down an ecstatic waiter, informing him that you needed the check and he sped off. No doubt notifying the rest of the staff that there was a table open and could finally seat the dozens of other guests. 

The fanfare of the door bustling open turned your head. If it was your date, it was too late. He’d blown it with that douchey text and even more with his douchey arrival. Any guy that put ‘ be ready to get sexy’ in a text was one you should’ve thrown out right away. 

Your check arrived then and you paid, ready to leave when someone tripped over your chair, spilling a drink all over your dress. 

“Aw shit, I’m so sorry,” You brushed your hand down the front of the garment, wincing at the stickiness that came back. 

“It’s fine, it happens,” You said back. It had been a long night and too much milk had already been spilled to think about crying over it. 

“No, I ruined your dress. Look let me pay the dry cleaning,” He sounded so sincere that you actually looked up at him. Who would even think to offer paying for a dress on a girl in a place this night. For all he knew it could be thousands of dollars. 

He had apple green eyes and dazzling freckles. You forgot about the dress for a second in favor of lingering on his body. 

“Hey, really it’d be my pleasure to pay for it. How much is it?” He sounded more panicked now and it was only then did you realize you hadn’t spoken to him.

You cleared your throat,”No hard feelings,” You extended a saltue out to him.

He grinned at you and you smiled back, unabashed at this attraction you felt to him. 

“Here, at least take my jacket. Don’t need a lady like you out in the cold with a wet dress,” You nodded your head, letting him slip the fabric around your shoudlers. 

His fingers brushed your shoulder and memories exploded in front of your eyes. 

A little boy with apple green eyes was making soup for a smaller boy. He couldn’t be more than 5 and he was cooking to take care of this other person. You realized after a beat that this was the young version of the man in front of you. 

He was a teenager with a leather jacket and a necklace strung along his neck. He was wrapping up a tween boy’s arm. Shushing the sobs pouring from the guy and cooing his name over and over. “Sammy its okay, just a sprain. You’re gonna be alright,” Your throat felt thick. What kind of life did this man live.

A phone on a workbench was playing an old 80s song. There was a car in front of your eyes, sleek black and straight out of a movie. He was singing along, tinkering with the tires and the engine. You watching in awe as he fixed the car bit by bit. The song ended and the man called out a thank you to a John. You wondered who he was as reality sunk back in. 

You were on your back and staring at the ceiling. 

“D-did you just see what I saw,” He asked, he was next to you on the ground and you rolled to face him. 

“Depends on if you feel like you just dropped acid,” He laughed and you liked the way it sounded. 

“That about sums it up. What was that?” He asked and you just looked at him. 

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” You said, “I’m your soulmate,” It was the only thing that evoked such a powerful reaction. 

“Dean,” He responded with awe in his eyes. “I guess that makes me yours,”

  
“I guess it does.” You’d finally found him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked this. This is just part one but please leave a comment if you want to see more or have any ideas on where the story should go.


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